


The Casimir Attraction

by chasing_givenchy



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, First Kiss, Mid-Canon, Silas University Is Weird, Stargazing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-14
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-17 18:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3539954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chasing_givenchy/pseuds/chasing_givenchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Intellectually, Laura knows that the Astronomy Club's stargazing party is going to be a disaster. It has couples-being-<i>coupley</i> written all over it, and Laura’s only choice of date is her roommate, Carmilla— potential queen of darkness. But Carmilla’s already gotten herself a telescope and is pretending she doesn’t care about going—when she pretty obviously does—and Laura is just a sucker for a sad face.</p><p>Or, as the night goes on, and popcorn battles and death-inducing observatory towers intrude, Laura discovers that she might just be a sucker. Period.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Casimir Attraction

“See, buttercup? I told you this would be fun.”

   “Um… technically, you walked into our room and implied that if I didn’t do as you said, grave bodily injury would ensue. To me. Very soon. And there were no witnesses.”

   “Whatever.” Carmilla dipped into Laura’s popcorn bag, grabbing a handful of caramel-coated kernels and cramming them into her mouth. “The view’s still great.”

   Laura sat up on the blanket they had spread on the unkempt field, peering in the dark at the sea of bodies around them. Typically, when Carmilla and ‘sea of bodies’ were involved anywhere, her first guess would be that the world’s population had been decreased by seventy. Thankfully, it was just the people who had responded to the Astronomy Club’s flyers about a stargazing party.

  (The flyer had emphasised that refreshments would be provided, just in case that was the incentive that would change some reluctant frat boy or party girl’s mind.)

   It was almost surprising (and maybe humbling) that a good number of students hadn’t thought it was the dorkiest idea in the world. People had poured into the field, laying down blankets and throw rugs. Even pillows. Some carried telescopes, while others were flicking through their smartphones, creating tiny islands of white lights.

   Carmilla said nothing more, but she shot Laura a tiny, surreptitious look that said, _Admit it_. _You think this is awesome_.

   Laura pursed her lips and half-raised an eyebrow in a squint that meant, _I don’t have to admit anything to you_. _I mean… no, it’s not_.

   After all, she was totally present under duress. Refer previous objection lodged on subject. Really, this started because Carmilla had walked into their room, casually thwacking a brass telescope against her thigh. “There’s an Astronomy thing happening outside,” she’d announced like a non-sequitur, grabbing a can from the fridge.

   “Do you… Is that you saying you want to _go_? Attend it, I mean.” Words had not come easily to Laura who was busy eyeing the hefty telescope. She was calculating the force required to crack open her skull with that thing, while remembering how Carmilla had once lifted the bed single-handedly while hunting for a lost copy of _Twilight_.

   Laura’s bed.

   While Laura had still been sitting on it.

   Carmilla’s ever eloquent response had been a tiny hitch of her shoulders. A half-shrug. Like, _maybe_. _If you insist_.

   No, Laura had not insisted. She hadn’t even wanted to go. Nothing would convince her that boggling near-sightedly at a polluted sky full of clouds and the moon was a fun way to spend Wednesday night. Then again, it was Wednesday night, so what better offer was waiting in the wings, anyway? And Carmilla had already procured a telescope, so it was painfully obvious that she _did_ want to go, just had no one to go with.

   Laura Hollis was a young lady of principles and convictions.

   She stood staunchly behind her opinions.

   And all it took was one I-care-but-I’m-trying-really-hard-not-to godawful scowl from her lonely roommate to make her principles crumble.

  The telescope lay between them now, useless, while she fumbled for acceptable conversational topics and Carmilla inspected an invisible run in her tights. Laura wished Carmilla would stop that because her own brain needed to focus less on the oh-wowza-those-are- _legs_ reminders and catch up on the stranded-on-a-woolly-blanket-with-a-potential-queen-of-darkness bulletins.

   Five blankets away, Perry and LaFontaine were sitting cross-legged on one of their own. They had with them, an Astronomy Club-supplied booklet on constellations, which started being _really_ informative only from page three hundred onwards. Consulting the booklet with one hand, Perry was frowning up at the sky and trying to get LaFontaine to pay attention. Meanwhile, LaFontaine kept giving Laura thumbs-ups and miming drawing blood with a syringe; they even underlined the point by pointing to Carmilla whenever they thought Carmilla wasn’t watching.

   (Laura considered omitting this portion of the evening when she vlogged about it later. She didn’t want to be told by a viewer, “Miss Laura, Carmilla _always_ watching.”)

   “Do you want to get your own popcorn?” Laura sighed, when she reached for the bag for the fourteenth time to find herself accidentally grabbing Carmilla’s hand instead. Their fingers lay tangled in the sticky paper bag, and Laura gave Carmilla a pointed look over it. “Do you want _me_ to get you your own popcorn?”

   “Nope,” said Carmilla lazily, and didn’t move.

   Laura had the distinct sensation of someone trying to fold her hand around a bunch of kernels. Carmilla’s palm felt warm and superglued around Laura’s fist. Laura snuck a peek at Carmilla, who was leaning back on her elbows, chin disinterestedly tilted skywards. Her dark hair swung back from her shoulders, and she had a bored, almost glassy look in her eyes.

   Breath tight in her throat, Laura faintly flexed to loosen her grip. Carmilla mimicked the gesture, her fingertips barely ghosting over the back of Laura’s hand. Still holding on to the kernels, Laura twisted her hand inside the bag until her palm was pressed up against Carmilla’s. Carmilla’s hand went flat and stiff, and Laura carefully tried to ensure that the popcorn stayed between them at all times. _Take it_ , she willed silently. _Please accept it_. Carmilla was slackening, her hand curving to cup the popcorn. Laura fidgeted on the blanket, the excitement threatening to burst out of her. Next to her, the faraway on look on Carmilla’s face still hadn’t changed. Laura pressed harder, smooshing popcorn kernels into fluffy sticky lint between their palms, and slid her caramel-brown fingers into the spaces between Carmilla’s.

   “I’ll ask you again,” said Laura. Her voice wavered on a giggle. “Do you want me to get you your own popcorn?”

   Carmilla’s inky black gaze flicked sideways. In an instant, she was carefully scrutinising invisible stars again. Her voice was hoarse, huskier. “ _No_.”

   _Victory_! thought Laura, who was equally uninterested in extricating her hand from Carmilla’s. At least, not right away. Because… Carmilla Karnstein might want to drink her blood, but she had lovely hands and the way she tightly held on to Laura’s where no one could see, didn’t feel so much like an admission of secret weakness as an attempt to say something very, very big. Laura was half-terrified of what it was, half-privileged that Carmilla wanted to tell it to _her_.

   Using her right hand, she fumbled on her left to find the telescope without looking. She was also a little afraid to glance at the popcorn bag between Carmilla at her, as if the bag existed in a secret parallel dimension. Maybe looking at it would make it disappear.

   A hard rap on her knuckles had her squealing in annoyance.

   “What’s the matter, cutie?” said Carmilla innocently, brandishing the five-pound brass telescope like a pennant. “I thought you wanted this.”

   “I just want a better look at these stars,” grumbled Laura. She didn’t move her other hand, so she had to contend with blowing on her knuckles to cool the stinging pain. Every flex made her feel like a hairline fracture on them was expanding.

   “With _this_?” The scorn was evident in Carmilla’s voice. She flipped the telescope into the air, sending it on a spinning arc, and snatched it back before it landed on the ground. “This doesn’t even have a focus.”

   “Did you miss the part about where this is supposed to be a night of stargazing?” said Laura. She pinched her lips together, narrowing her eyes in a silent reminder that this had been _Carmilla’s_ idea in the first place. She’d been the one to get herself a telescope!

   The answering quirk of the corner of Carmilla’s mouth plainly said, _Oh yeah_? _You want to make something out of it_? She was also plainly laughing. “Maybe you should have brought Danny.”

   Her name brought every one of Laura’s functioning senses to a juddering halt. “Um,” was the best she could manage. “Um.”

   Further down the field, Perry and LaFontaine had picked up on the fact that something was no longer so kosher. LaFontaine looked ready to spring off the blanket and rush over, while it took all of Perry’s strength to keep them from doing just that.

   “ _Why_?” said Laura at last. Quite eloquently, in fact.

   Carmilla’s cool, amused gaze sleeked over Laura from head to toe. “You _do_ have a babbling crush on her. And _stargazing_ … is supposed to be romantic.”

   There it was. The elephant in the room. The one that had been comfortably chewing sugarcane in its corner, until Carmilla dragged it kicking and screaming to centrestage.

   “Um,” said Laura, going to her trusty conversational failsafe. “Do not.”

   “Whatever.” Carmilla was still playing with the telescope, balancing it by the narrow end on the palm of her hand. It was interesting how her hand was still tangled up with Laura’s, and neither of them were ready to let go.

   “I mean, I _like_ her,” said Laura in a rush. _Do not do not do not_ , she chanted mentally, willing herself not to instinctively grab Carmilla’s hand tighter or something. Like she was trying to say _that doesn’t mean I’m abandoning you, you potential mother of the scourge of the universe_.

   “Danny is…” _Sweet, smart, gorgeous_. “A lot of fun.”

   Carmilla arched an eyebrow. “I don’t recall asking.”

   “But she’s…” _Too much all at once when you get too close, when she cares so much about someone she likes—likes, not loves—that it’s like being smothered in_ “a fleece blanket.”

   Carmilla snorted. “Danny is a fleece blanket, so you’re out here with me?”

   Laura felt the tips of her ears burn red. “Yeah,” she said stupidly, because if LaFontaine was right and Carmilla roamed the earth leading an army of the undead, what crap would she give about Laura’s issues? They were just barely able to be friends. “Something like that.”

   Carmilla tilted her head slightly, staring at Laura for half a second with heavy-lidded eyes. It was a loaded look, one that simply said, _Bullshit_. Laura did not think it was possible to feel that much relief when Carmilla didn’t push the issue. And that much… _inexplicable something_ that Carmilla had noticed (and maybe cared) enough to call her out on it.

   “Okay, get up.” Carmilla shook herself free of the popcorn bag, and for a second, Laura clutched frantically at thin air.

   “Where are we going?” asked Laura, climbing to her feet after Carmilla anyway. She noticed, illogically, that Carmilla hadn’t paused to hold out a hand like she’d thought Laura would need a boost.

   Like Danny would have, in the sweetest, most chivalrous way.

   Carmilla had just assumed Laura would stand up on her own and trampled all over nice old-timey gestures with her steel-toed boots.

   LaFontaine had straightened up on their blanket too, their bloodhound senses alert. They raised their eyebrows meaningfully, a smirking glint in their eye. _Go all Buffy on that bitch!_ they seemed to say. Perry was flopped on the blanket in complete resignation, booklet shielding her face.

   Feeling particularly empty-handed without a wooden stake of her own, Laura tripped after Carmilla who unerringly started leading the way… _somewhere_. Too many people were thrown willy-nilly on the field, an obstacle course that Laura that was too hopped-up to navigate cleanly.

   Kirsch and Will were sharing an oversized blanket, marked with the Zeta Omega Mu emblem, with a pair of girls. Will had his mouth glued to the line of his girlfriend’s neck, his intensity practically Olympic. Kirsch had the other girl’s braid twirled around his fingers, and he paused long enough in his ministrations to mouth, _Hey, hotties!_ at Laura as she passed.

   She was almost sixty percent sure he meant it the same way most people would say, _hi_.

   Points for effort.

   (But not too many points.)

   “Carmilla?” said Laura nervously, as they got further and further away from the stargazers, skirting the edge of the academic buildings. Up ahead, Carmilla was confidently striding towards whatever destination only she knew about, a black beacon sparkling where the moonlight bounced off her metal accessories. “You’re not taking me… to _class_ , are you?”

   Her roommate didn’t even dignify that with an answer.

   But when the rickety Silas observatory shuffled into sight around the corner of the last science building, Laura’s heart jumped into her throat and clung there.

   “Um,” was as far as she got. Then, “No way.”

   Carmilla spun around, mischief lighting up her eyes. “Are you scared, creampuff?”

   Laura swallowed hard, and swore to lie. “Definitely.” _Damn it_.

   She’d seen the official e-mail from the Dean. _Students found in the vicinity of the old observatory will be expelled_. _Students found in the wreckage of the observatory that collapsed on them after they attempted to illicitly enter it, will also be expelled_.

   “We could be expelled,” she said. Another look at the crumbling brick building gave her new ammunition. “We could die!”

   “Chicken,” said Carmilla fondly. She marched towards the observatory, and Laura found herself following suit, if only to keep Carmilla to getting killed. She couldn’t handle another multiple-choice New Roommate form letter.

   As they got closer, Laura grudgingly acknowledged that maybe some of the rumours about the dereliction of the observatory were… exaggerated. Or purely baloney. The walls were covered in graffiti; the Astronomy Club and other kids had come and left countless messages: some were dire warnings, others were the initials of couples drawn inside hearts.

   In fact, there seemed to be a disturbing amount of hearts.

   _Oh_ , thought Laura. _Ohhh_.

   The observatory was quietly secluded in its own patch of moonlight, privately out of sight of the busy field and shielded by the empty school buildings. High above it, a narrow walkaway ringed the top.

   It had just enough space for two people to sit, legs dangling over the side. Holding hands, one pressing her cheek to the other’s shoulder, the other’s arm around her.

   _Perfect_.

   Carmilla had found the observatory door, a sturdy but old-looking slab of wood. Laura was confident that one punch from Carmilla’s fist would knock a hole clean through. In fact, she was a little disappointed to see Carmilla fiddling with the giant padlock.

   “You have a key?” she asked, surprised.

   “Nicked it from the Dean,” said Carmilla carelessly. It seemed to be no big deal in the world of Carmilla. She was having some trouble fitting the key into the lock, however.

   Laura inched forward to see if she could help. Carmilla’s caramel-plastered palms left crusty traces everywhere, making the door sticky.

   “People at Silas,” said Carmilla absently, in her typical abrupt way, “think that the observatory door opens on its own if two lovers kiss under this awning.” She jerked her thumb upwards while continuing to jiggle the key.

   “Oh,” said Laura.

   She couldn’t help wondering if she’d been told that story on—

   If the unspoken thing thudding in the space between Carmilla and her on the blanket was—

   Maybe if she did was she was doing, then—

   She stepped forward, squeezing onto the narrow stoop of the observatory next to Carmilla. Her roommate’s forehead creased, silently asking, _what’re you_ , and Laura answered by carefully sliding her clean hand up the side of Carmilla’s face, tucking Carmilla’s hair behind one ear and tilting her face so that Laura could stand up on her toes and meet Carmilla’s lips with her own.

   The world seemed to go still all around them. Laura almost couldn’t move. She heard a startled gasp of breath, Carmilla’s lips parting, and warmth cascaded up her back where Carmilla wrapped an arm around Laura and pulled her flush against her own body.

   Carmilla kissed her back, and it wasn’t intense and Gothic and hungry like every building crawling in the dark of Silas, the way Carmilla seemed when she curled up on her bed and in on herself. When Carmilla kissed her, her lips were gentle and her tongue teasing, her sticky-caramel hand leaving deliberate splotches against Laura’s cheek. She laughed faintly into the kiss, like it made her _happy_ for the first time in their forever-long acquaintance to be here, to be doing this, to be with Laura.

   And Laura knew, because she couldn’t imagine feeling any other way herself.

   The key had dropped to the ground hours ago while they kissed and kissed. The lock turned, of its own accord, with a tiny, pleased—

   _Click_.

**Author's Note:**

> The Casimir effect is the attractive pressure between two flat, parallel metal plates placed very near to each other in a vacuum; the pressure is due to a reduction in the usual number of virtual particles in the space between the plates. [[x]](http://burro.astr.cwru.edu/stu/advanced/extras_glossary.html)
> 
> ♥ to Charissa, who may never discover this, but is the reason I got hooked on this show in the first place.


End file.
